Thankful? Not Even Close.

I can’t believe this week is over and that we are on the precipice of a new one. It seems that for weeks I’ve been looking forward to this one, with reunions planned, and deadlines being met and getting one step closer to the finishing of the semester and time spent with those that fill my heart with more love than one person deserves…

It was a packed week. Packed.

I stayed in Norman for the majority of it. I reunioned with friends. Sang and laughed and drank and laughed some more. I met family and played Princesses and helped build a gingerbread house. I ate delicious food and drank spiked coffee and slept in and napped on couches and watched football and did homework (totally telling the truth there) and slipped into a routine that felt as comfortable as a pair of 501’s from the 80’s.

It was bliss.

I’m back in my own house this afternoon, and there are feathers and hairball drippings that were left for me. There’s laundry to be done and some cleaning of floors. I’ve got a ton of reading to do before class tomorrow. Time has become that thing that both taunts and tricks me, tempts and tortures.  I want things to go slow. And to speed up.

My crazy brain kicked into high gear last night and into today and while I’ve figured out the root of the issue and have somewhat successfully quietened the voices, there is residue that lingers…the sticky, tacky residue that can only be cleaned by a fierce frenzy that includes Comet and vacuuming. So that’s where I’m starting. Time to clean the house. Right the chaos. Prepare for the Christmas decorating next weekend. I wish that I’d decorated this weekend. This is when I usually do it, and it makes the house so…homey. I wish it was done and the house was clean and the things were put up and all of that…all of that…

but I wouldn’t change a thing.

Not one single second.

Thankful?

Doesn’t even begin to touch what’s going on over here.